William Howitt,
Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets…
“ This was one of those brief seasons in the poet's life when the heaven of his spirit has cast its glory on the nether world. When the light and splendor of his own beautiful creations invest the common earth, and he walks in the summer of his heart's joy. Every imagination seems to have become a reality; every hope to expand before him into fame and felicity; and the flowers beneath his tread, the sky above him, the air that breathes upon his cheek—all nature, in short, is full of the intoxication of poetic triumph. Bristol was become quite too narrow for him and Rowley ”
